Bread And Circuses
by coffeeandcupcakes
Summary: It's 2012, and Katniss Everdeen is attending college. Between attempting to handle her roommate Johanna, dealing with Peeta and Gale across the hall, learning to cope with an alcoholic professor and, to top it all off, a principal that doesn't want her here, Katniss's time at the University of Panem is certainly going to be eventful. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Bread And Circuses: California, Here We Come**

so this is an idea I've had for a while. it's ridiculously AU and i'd just something i'll be writing on the side,  
but it wouldn't leave me alone until i'd written it. basically, it centers around the idea that all the characters  
of the hunger games are living in 2012 and they're all going to the university of panem instead of the games.

* * *

Leaving home for college is always hard, but for me, it was harder than usual.

I'd been packed for weeks. My stuff was all in boxes by July, ready to move in by September. I'd been looking forward to leaving all summer, from the moment I graduated from high school. Leaving West Virginia for California was the best thing that would ever happen to me, and I couldn't wait to leave already and start a new life on the West Coast.

What was making it so hard was leaving my little sister behind. Primrose was only fourteen, and was half-begging me to stay. It broke my heart. Standing at the stoop of my childhood home, I felt as though I was leaving my heart behind. My father had left them when I was ten and Prim six, and we'd never really recovered, emotionally or financially; I was going to college on a scholarship and I'd been the sole caregiver for Prim since my mother had been fighting her own battle with depression since my father had left in the night. Mom had left Prim's care in my hands, and now I'm gone, who was going to take care of her? Mom hugged her me goodbye and told her she'd take care of Prim.

I'd taken Prim aside last night and told her to call me if there are any difficulties with their mother. _College was nothing compared to your wellbeing,_ I'd told my sister. _Anything at all, just call me and I'll be back before you know it._

I'd said goodbye to my friends yesterday. I'm known for being quiet, even more so after the death of my father. I've only had a few close friends that I've known since childhood, and they'd come around my house with a cupcake to say goodbye. Not many got the chance to leave this town never mind get college, and never was it on the other side of the country. I'd been thankful that they were there to say goodbye to me, my friends that I'd probably never see again. If it wasn't for Prim, I don't think I'd ever set foot in this town again.

Putting the last rucksack into my car, I waved tearfully to the two females on the doorstep as she climbed into it, an old truck bought on the cheap from the black market that existed in their small town of Seam. Nothing was new in Seam, it was all second hand or traded. That's how they lived, the town of Seam. All of it's occupants were in near-constant poverty, and the fact I had received a scholarship to the University of Panem, across the country in California, had made me somewhat of a celebrity in the small town. There had been column inches in the town newspaper for Christs' sake, and that had made me extremely uncomfortable. I don't like being talked about or being 'famous', and it made the list as yet another reason I couldn't wait to get out of this dirt town and make a new life for myself on the other side of the country.

* * *

Hot.

That is the first thing that I register about California. It was hot. Muggy, even. I'd barely opened the window of my truck and my gray, worn, two-sizes-too-big t-shirt was clinging to my back with sweat. I pluck my hair off my neck, and put it back quickly in a braid; I couldn't be doing with my hair sticking to my skin, making me even hotter. The car park was fit to bursting with freshman students – or what I assumed were freshmen, for the actual semester didn't start for another two weeks – and I'd never been around this many people before.

I took a deep breath, and smiled. I was ready for this. This is what I'd been waiting for since June. I could do this, I could. If I could bring up her sister almost single-handedly when I was a preteen, I could attend college. I could do this.

Pushing all thoughts of Prim aside, I hopped out my car and rifled through my bag for my orientation papers, cursing myself for not being more organised. Shouldn't I have put them in a folder or something? I really would have to get more organised for the semester ahead. Eventually I found them, buried deep under a mountain of papers and books. I sighed as I pulled them out; they were only a little bent, nothing huge to worry about. I hoisted up her bag, a holdall; everything else was in cardboard boxes in the back of the truck, waiting to be brought up.

As soon as I walked in the doors, there were signs seemingly everywhere that screamed in bright colours, 'New Student Orientation: This Way!' with arrows pointing in various directions. It seemed a little too contradictory for my taste, so I dug out the map I'd been given.

Included in the orientation pack was this map, but no matter which way I turned and read it, it was completely and utterly useless to me. I decided rather than trying to make my own way there, I'd follow the crowd. I spotted a few girls with obviously new UP sweaters on, and I decided to inconspicuously follow them. They were in a group of three, one blonde, one redhead and a brunette, and clutched like a lifeline in their hands was the very orientation pack I myself had in mine.

Keeping a safe distance from them, I followed them through the twists and turns of the college, wondering how the hell I was ever going to be able to find my away around this place. The map was made completely and utterly redundant as I saw wide corridors splitting off into new ones, into little back rooms and alcoves, and staircases that seemed to go on forever. It was completely overwhelming and ridiculously exciting all at the same time, and I was slightly relieved to find that they'd stopped outside a room which had a sign with 'New Student Orientation' tacked on it.

"Hey there," a voice made me whip her head to the left. A girl stood there, only a few years older than me, but what made her stand out was her fashion sense. Dressed in a bright pink dress with an electric blue belt, accessorized with green tights and pink shoes, paired with purple and blue highlights in her mousy-brown hair, you could spot this girl from a mile off. She shot me a dazzling smile. "I'm Effie Trinket, and I'm the Head of Student Orientation this year. Welcome to UP!" she trilled, her voice as bright as her clothing. I smiled at her. "Now, what's your name? We can get you registered and up to your room in no time."

It was only then that I noticed she had a clipboard in her hand – bright blue to match her belt.

"Um – It's Katniss. Katniss Everdeen," I manage to mumble out, one hand pulling my holdall further up my shoulder as Effie clucks her tongue as she searches through the papers.

"Not this page … or that one … or that – wait, here you are, Everdeen, Katniss," she said finally, smiling brilliantly as she scored off my name and handed me a card with her name and picture on it from a bundle stacked on a table. "You're in the West Building, Room 12. Your roommate is already up there. The floor is co-ed, but the rooms are all single sex. I'm also the Orientation Leader for your building, which means I'll be taking you around town, showing you all the hottest places to hang and all that," Effie continues, flicking her multi-coloured hair over her shoulder. "Your keys will be in your room with your roommate. West Building is just over there," she says, pointing to a building on the map that didn't appear too far away from where they were, but the map had already proved unreliable and I don't trust it, but I bid Effie thanks and goodbye, and make my way in the direction the map tells me to go.

* * *

As it turned out, it was pretty hard to miss West Building. It was an old, red-stone building that I pretty much instantly fall in love with. Not too far away from the main campus, it looked like it would have good views of the surrounding campus, which in my view wasn't too bad. The greenery was lush, and I'd never seen a place look so … _alive_. After giving my name and showing my card to the RA at the door, he tells me how to access my new room. Since the first two floors were for communal living, my room was on the third floor.

I soon get to Room 12, which is to be my home for the next year. It's pretty quiet, with most people moving in next week. I wanted to get here as early as possible, and so did my roommate. Since my roommate – Johanna, the papers had said her name was – was already in, I didn't have keys and so I knock three times, to no answer. I knock again, my eyebrows knitting together. Had she gone out?

"Wait a second, would ya?" A voice comes through from the door, before a bang and a crash reverberates through. "Shit, fuck, shit!" the voice says again, and I take a step back from the door, my eyebrows shooting up of their own accord at the language. I'd heard it before, obviously, in high school, but it was forbidden at home and easy way these words flowed of this girl's tongue surprised me. The door flings itself open, and a girl appears. The girl is shorter than me by about two inches, with shoulder length dark brown hair and a nose piercing. She looks as though a smirk is permanently attached to her face, and my first reaction is _it could have been worse._

"You must be Katniss, yeah?" she says, opening the door wider and me in. I nod at her.

"Johanna Mason, right?" is all I say in reply, and the girl nods.

"That's me. Sorry about all my shit," she says, kicking aside a cardboard box full of possessions that was lying about, turned on its side; the source of the banging noise earlier. I look around. The room is pretty much a bombsite, and it is small, smaller than I'd thought it'd be but still bigger than the matchbox sized room I'd shared with Prim in Seam.

"It's alright," I say, and I incline my head to the bed that isn't scattered with belongings. "I'm guessing this one is mine then."

"I need to sleep next to a window," Johanna shrugs, as if she hadn't really taken into consideration my sleeping habits. Somehow, I didn't think she did. Luckily I don't really give a damn where I sleeps as long as I have a bed. I dumps my holdall onto the bed and collapse on the end, looking around the room. It's clearly laid out for two halves; one bed at either side of the room, two wardrobes and two desks. If we wanted, we could live entirely separate lives in this one room.

(Although I'd never, ever show it, I hope this won't be the case).

"What're you studying?" Johanna asks, looking at though she doesn't give a shit but needs to ask.

"Political science," I say. "You?"

"Business management," she says, frowning. "It's be boring as fuck but at least I'll have a degree out of it. That can't be all you brought?" Johanna questions without taking a breath, looking at my lone holdall. I look up from it, blink, and then shake my head.

"No. All my boxes are down in my truck," I say, shrugging a shoulder. "I was going to find the room and then bring them up, but honestly, I can't be bothered."

Johanna sighs. "You won't be bothered in the fucking morning either, let me tell you. I'm gonna be uncharacteristically generous and offer you a hand in getting the boxes and your other shit up here. But this is a one-time only offer, and only because I met you two seconds ago. It won't happen again," she says, and I think I might actually like Johanna, surprisingly enough. I hadn't expected to like my roommate at all.

"Thanks," is all I say, however, as we stand to walk out the door. I get two steps out before a voice calls her back.

"Wait," Johanna's voice comes from inside, and I poke my head around the door. A key is flung at me, and I catches it millimetres before it hits my nose. "Your key. It's quite handy, or so I'm told," Johanna says, raising an eyebrow as she makes her way downstairs.

"So where you from, Kat?" Johanna asks, as they make the short walk over to my truck. I'll drive it back to just outside West Building, to make the trips easier, before parking it in their allocated lot.

"It's Katniss," I reply, following Johanna down the stairs. "And West Virginia. You?"

Johanna laughs. "You're an East Coast girl, huh? I'm from Washington, myself. Couldn't wait to get the fuck outta there. And Katniss sounds like you're fucking hissing all the time. I'mma call you Kat."

No-one calls me Kat, apart from Prim. I swallow, and sigh.

"Katniss is fine," I defend, and I see we have eventually reached my truck. Johanna eyes it with a little uncertainty, but clambers in nevertheless, before gasping.

"Fucks sake, it's boiling in here," she says, rolling down the window and leaning out of it as if she hadn't had fresh air in an hour. I start the car in silence, but I'm grateful for the breeze that blows in the window as we roll along towards West Building. It really is scorching. "California's so damn hot. In Seattle it rains pretty much constantly. I wonder if it ever rains?" Johanna was musing as we pulled up outside the building.

"I think, like, once a year, perhaps," I say, smirking slightly at the exaggeration of the hot days. I'm sure it rains more than once a year here, but with the sun high in the sky, it's hard to imagine anything other than blistering heat.

Johanna's already got a cardboard box in her arms by the time I'm out the truck. I grab the other one closest to me and we begin the trek back up to our room. We make small talk as we do so, well, Johanna does. I just nod in the right places.

It's on our second – to – last trip down that he stops us. He's easily cleared six foot, with dark brown hair, olive skin, and a little bit of stubble. He's attractive, and both Johanna and I exchange a look that says everything. _He's hot._

"Hi," he says, his voice husky. "Do you girls need a hand with the boxes?"

Truth be told, the last few boxes are more of my heavier possessions, so I nod. "That'd be good. Thanks."

"I'm Johanna. Business Management," the girl in question says, putting down a box to extend her hand. The man smiles and shakes it.

"Gale Hawthorne," he says, as he extends his hand to me. "Physical Education."

I take it, and it's warm and solid. "Katniss," I say quietly. "Political science."

"I saw you two go down and back up again and I thought you might want a bit of a stronger hand. I'm in room 13, across the hall from you," he continues, lifting up the box Johanna dropped and shifting it in his arms. "You're in room 12, right?"

Johanna nods. "That's us. Get familiar with it 'cause we're gonna be party central this year!"

I do a double take at her comment. "We are?" I say, uneasy. I've never been good around big crowds. I've never been popular, or with many friends, and therefore I'd never been invited to any parties in high school. I didn't really have any sort of cause for celebration or the motivation to do so. The biggest party I went to was graduation, and I only went to receive my diploma and then leave. Johanna, on the other hand, looks like she'd be a life and soul of a party, whilst I'd be sitting in a corner with a book.

Johanna turns to me, glaring a little, almost saying _Don't act so uncool around a hot guy_ with her eyes. I catch on to what she's saying. "Yeah. Party central, us," I say, but there is no enthusiasm in my voice. I grab the last box, and make my way upstairs.

"So, Gale, where you from?" I hear Johanna ask as they follow me up the stairs.

"New York, born and bred," he says, his feet making more noise against the stone staircase than mine and Johanna's combined. "You?"

"Seattle," she replies, and then she continues. "That one's from West Virginia before you ask." I can almost see her jutting a thumb or her head in my direction.

"Fellow East Coaster," he says, and I turn my head back to smile a little at him. Maybe getting to know the neighbours wouldn't be such a bad thing after all.

* * *

It's a week after I moved in, and there is a ton of commotion going on outside.

Johanna's lying on her stomach on her bed, flicking through _Cosmo_ magazine and pointing out all the clothes that would 'look cute'. I'd never really been much of a fan of fashion. Most of my clothes were second-hand and I only usually wore what was comfy. Johanna looked like she'd faint if I told her that. Her head snaps up as the bashing outside continues. "What the fuck is that racket?" she comments, lifting herself onto her elbows. Apart from flicking the page over every so often, this is the most movement I've seen her make in hours. I stand up from my bed and make my way to the door. I hear a creak, and see Johanna is right beside me.

I open the door, and there stands Gale Hawthorne, surrounded by suitcases and boxes. He looks slightly sweaty and out-of-breath, and if I'm being honest, it's a good look for him.

"Moving out so soon, Hawthorne?" Johanna comments from around my shoulder area, where half her body is hidden behind mine as with both stand in the narrow doorway.

Gale laughs. "My roommate is moving in today. Apparently he's brought his whole house with him."

"Not my whole house," comes a voice from the stairwell. "I think I left my kitchen sink at home." We turn our heads and a man with another suitcase is standing there. He is about six foot tall – a couple of inches shorter than Gale – with wavy blonde hair and a stocky, strong build. He too has a sheen of sweat on his forehead, and he extends a hand to me. "Peeta Mellark, I'm Gale's roommate."

I shake his hand. "Katniss Everdeen," I say, watching his blue eyes as they connect with mine, before moving onto to Johanna.

"Johanna Mason," she says, also shaking his hand. "Did you really have to make so much fucking noise? We moved in with not so much as a peep."

"Apart from the fact _you_ had to trip over most of _your_ boxes to get to the door until yesterday," I say, smirking at Johanna. She glares playfully at me.

"Sorry," Peeta remarks, not really looking sorry in the slightest. "But to be honest, I was Gale making most of the noise. He isn't skilled at placing the suitcases down lightly. Must be the guns," he says, eyeing Gale's arms. Johanna and I both laugh, and Gale scowls. He already has the quiet, brooding persona down, whilst Peeta seems like he smiles at lot more. I notice Peeta's arms aren't exactly small themselves, but I don't mention it.

"Right, routine questions. Where you from and what you studying?" Johanna asks, leaning against the doorjamb, watching as the two men deposit Peeta's belongings into their room.

"I'm from Pennsylvania," Peeta says, and Gale smiles.

"No way, man! New York," he says, and the two bump fists.

Peeta turns to Johanna. "And before you ask, I'm studying Culinary Arts."

I frown. "Culinary Arts?"

"It means he wants to be a chef, Brainless," Johanna supplies to me, looking at Peeta. 'Brainless' is another nickname she's thought up of the past week, to join with 'Kat' and 'Moody McMooderson', which we both agreed wasn't her best. I have a feeling that by the end of the year there'll be several notebooks worth.

The man in question smiles. "No, it means I want to be a baker. My family owns a bakery." He leans against the wall, shrugging one shoulder.

"Then why are you wasting your fucking time at college?" Johanna spits back. "You could have just taken over the family business, you don't need a degree."

"I wanted one," he fires back, just as quick. "Gets me away from my house and family, and it gives me a chance to experience life and learn about something I love. Couldn't say no when they offered me a place."

No-one could argue with him, and there was a uncomfortable silence within the corridor. No-one really knew what to say to one another, now all the pleasantries had been taken care of.

"I'm fucking starving," Johanna says, always one to speak her feelings. "Anyone want to grab something to eat?"

Everyone seems grateful for the break in ice, and the tensions rapidly dissipates.

"I could do with some food," Gale says, and Peeta nods his agreement.

"Katniss, you coming?" he asks, and I shrink back. Going out for dinner with people I barely know means making small talk and I don't like it.

"You three go ahead. I'll … stay here," I say, and Johanna rolls her eyes.

"Come on, party pooper," she says, grabbing my arm and dragging me away from the doorway and down the corridor, my protests falling on deaf ears. "We wouldn't want you missing out or what-the-fuck ever."

I reluctantly let my roommate drag me all over town looking for the perfect Italian restaurant.

* * *

The first day of class is interesting to say the least.

Professor Abernathy is, for another word, mad. He rants and raves about the uselessness of the united states government for the first half hour, spends another fifteen minutes proclaiming that President Obama is the new Jesus Christ and then proposes we should spent the rest of class in the bar down the road. Which we do, and he gets quite drunk on some sort of spirit and then spent ten minutes yelling at a guy in the class for saying he preferred George Bush to Al Gore.

I can't decide if I love him or hate him.

Johanna calls me a _lucky bitch_ _for having such a cool professor, why can't she have him rather than an overweight, sixty-year-old spinster who has clearly never been fucking laid in her life and is taking it out on them? _

I laughed at her bitter tone, telling her that probably, Abernathy would probably be a worse marker than Coin. I couldn't help, however, being a little bit smug.

The second day is a little better, and he actually teaches them about the science behind politics. Once again, Johanna comes home with a scowl on her face, ranting on about how Professor Coin is probably Satan reincarnated. Only it's said with a lot more expletives and very loudly, and at one point I thought she might put her fist through the wall.

Johanna's ranting and raving isn't done quietly, and it brings over a curious Peeta and Gale.

"What is going on over here?" Peeta asks, deciding the end of my bed would be a good place to sit. I'm sitting up against the headboard, while Gale takes one of the desk chairs. Johanna is still pacing but at least now she's quietened to she's only muttering to herself now and again.

"Johanna's lecturer is, I quote, 'Satan reincarnated'," I say, using air quotes where appropriate. Peeta and Gale share a look.

"Isn't that a pretty harsh judgement to make on the second day?" Peeta asks, one eyebrow raised at Johanna.

"That's what I said," I agree with him, and he tilts his head back to look at me, and smiles.

"Easy for you to say, Brainless," she spits at me. "She only went and fucking got Abernathy, who is literally like the best prof _ever_. She spent the whole lecture is a _bar _whilst I got yelled at for having brown hair!"

Gale and Peeta both look at me for confirmation. I shrug my shoulder, and they sigh.

"How did you get so lucky?" Gale asks, crossing his arms. "I got Crane and he hates people. In general. He should have got a job where he's a hermit 'cause he seriously doesn't like people."

"Mine's okay," Peeta admits, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Flickerman. He could be worse, although he really needs to learn about frosting. His is average at best."

Johanna barks out a laugh. "You think you know more than your lecturer on the second day?"

"I know I do," is Peeta's answer. "I've been frosting cakes at my family's bakery since I stand on a stool, so I've been doing it just as long as he has."

"Flickerman loved Peeta's frosting so much he's assigned him to help lecture for the rest of the year," Gale says, clicking his fingers in Peeta's direction. Peeta turns his head to the back of it is towards Johanna, and winks at me. I bite my lip to keep from smiling as I nod marginally, letting him know I've understood that we're in a game.

"Really?" Johanna turns to him, an impressed look on her face.

"Flickerman does loves his frosting," Gale adds, smirking, clearly enjoying this.

Peeta nods slowly, biting his lip in a manner similar to mine, before he makes eye contact with Gale and they both lose it, bursting into laughter. Gale is having a hard time staying on the chair whilst Peeta's head ends up near my feet, and his laughing face makes me giggle as well.

"You were having me on, weren't you?"

Gale laughs at Johanna. "I can't believe you fell for that! As if they'd let him help lecture on the second day!" he is overcome with laughter. "You're too gullible, Mason."

He smirks at his roommate, and Johanna laughs as she collapses backwards on her bed, the springs squeaking in protest. She brings her arms up to cover her embarrassed, red face. Gale is still laughing loudly, and Peeta is trying to manourver himself into a sitting position, using my knee as a ledge, wiping away tears of mirth.

Somehow, despite everything, I think I might actually enjoy college.


	2. Chapter 2

**Bread and Circuses: Last Friday Night**

Wow, amazing response to the first chapter! Thanks guys! (: now for the second one.  
just to let you all know in case this isn't your thing, but _**eventual**_ (key word there) pairings  
are Katniss/Peeta and Johanna/Gale, with random pairings of other characters along the way  
that I haven't quite decided yet. But even if it isn't your thing, I encourage you to keep reading.  
enjoy! (:

* * *

Johanna is whistling, and that immediately sets off alarm bells in my head.

We've been sharing a room for a month now, and we're getting to know each other's habits a lot better. I know that Johanna likes early morning showers, her breakfast before ten am, and she really, really can't sing.

Also, she never whistles.

I wouldn't go so far to say that she's grumpy, or sullen, or sulky. Johanna's just … not an overly happy person. The most excited I've seen her so far was when we met for lunch during classes and little Mexican restaurant we occasionally visit had decided to do half-off Fajita Friday.

Another thing to add to the list: she really, _really_ likes Mexican food. To date it is the only way I can shut her up, but it's rather inconvenient to be carrying tacos around the place just in case she decides to go off on one.

I'm sitting at my desk, attempting to look over a tome of a book that Abernathy, in a fit of apparent soberness, assigned us several chapters to read for our lecture tomorrow. _Introduction to International Relations_ sits in front of me, and I glance at the clock. I've been sitting for two hours and I've read one of the four chapters he'd assigned us, and I make the decision I don't like Professor Abernathy sober. At all. Drunk is how I know him and drunk is how he should be, end of discussion.

I throw down my highlighter and pen, and that's when my distraction comes in Johanna whistling.

"Hey, Kat," she says, throwing down her book bag and smiling at me. Johanna rarely smiles at me. Sure, she'll smirk or grin or attempt a smile that turns out more like a grimace, but this is full, teeth-included and warm smile that has me frowning from the moment her lips turn up.

(And if you're wondering, I gave up on her insistence to call me Kat after the first week, when it became clear my annoyance towards the nickname was one of the reasons she was so insistence on calling me it in the first place).

I turn around in my desk chair, one eyebrow raised. "What's up with you, cheery?" I ask, my reading for tonight forgotten.

"Cheery?" Johanna questions, before she shakes her head. "Anyway, you'll never guess what? We've been invited to this totally hot party a senior is having in the Cap next Saturday night! How fucking awesome is that?"

I frown. The Cap is the affectionate nickname of the Capitol Building, which is the residence hall for the senior class of the University of Panem. Over the last month I've heard tales of varying degrees of wildness about the parties that have been held there, which range from people jumping off the roof and into a swimming pool to people doing extraordinary amounts of hallucinogenic drugs – in the version I heard, the police were called to the building and one guy had been doing so much that he thought the cop was Morgan Freeman and tried to get him to 'act like God'. After that, the guy had told two other girls and me (I wasn't really chatting to them, more like he was talking so loudly I couldn't help but overhear) that the dude had spent two days in the cells and then got kicked out of the university for using drugs.

I have no intention of going to such a party.

Johanna, however, won't take no for an answer.

"You have to come!" she moans, flopping down on her bed like a sack of potatoes. "It's gonna be the biggest rager _ever! _And isn't that why you've come here anyway, loser, to live your life?"

"I came to get an education," I say, gesturing to the book behind me. "Not to drink so much I get kicked out and then my whole town becomes disappointed in me."

Johanna raises both eyebrows and scoffs. "Okay, calm it, drama queen," she says, holding two hands up in an 'I surrender' type position. "I didn't realise you held the entire town's expectations on your shoulders. What is that anyway, like, four people?"

If I didn't know Johanna, I would have ripped her to shreds for that one. But I know that's her way of joking, and I just sigh.

"I don't want to go, Johanna. I just … don't do parties, or people, or anything like that. It'd just make me uncomfortable."

She huffs loudly and folds her arms. "Why did I get roomed with such a fucking party pooper?" she whines, throwing herself back on her bed as she does when she's annoyed or angry.

"Ask them to re-room you, if you care so much," I snap, turning back to my book.

"Too much like hard work," she replies, and a small smile graces my lips, because I know that's her way of saying that she doesn't mind being roomed with me. And to be honest, I could have done at lot worse than her.

She throws a sock to the back of my head as she laughs.

* * *

Next Saturday rolls around far too quickly for my liking, and Johanna's completely and utterly bombed our room with dresses, shoes, make-up and other things I have no use for but she apparently needs them all, because they're 'necessary'.

"Food is necessary," I say, picking up a black high-heeled shoe pinched between my thumb and index finger and throwing them onto Johanna's bed and off mine, where they had been resting. "Not these ridiculous shoes."

Johanna rolls her eyes. "Maybe for you, but for people who come from fucking civilisation, they're fundamental to our survival."

I raise an eyebrow and she sighs.

"Okay, maybe not fundamental for survival, but they're important. Have you never worn a pair? Even tottered around in your mother's as a child?"

I scoff. "No. My mother never wore anything like this. I didn't know about clothes like this until I went to high school and saw other girls in ridiculous shoes that looked like they could break their ankles."

I'm cut off by the shrill ring of Johanna's mobile phone, some R&B song that I have no interest in ever listening to again coming out of the speakers at an headache-inducing volume. I glare at her until she answers it.

"Hey girl," she says into it, and then she frowns. "What? No way! You can't bail on me now! I don't care if you're fucking puking, Clove, you have to come!" she scowls into her phone. "Whatever. Just know that you suck, bitch," she says into her phone and throws it on her bed. She turns to me, still scowling. "Clove's ditched me for tonight, she has the stomach flu or some shit, so now I don't have anyone to go to the party with me and you have to come!"

I faintly recognise Clove's name as the girl in Johanna's class that occasionally comes over so the two can study together, then I hear the end of her sentence and all thoughts of Clove go out my head.

"Oh no," I say, scooting backwards on my bed. "No way am I going."

She sighs and crosses her arms, clearly annoyed. She bites her lip. "Okay, I have a proposal," she says, and I look at her sceptically. "You come with me for an hour or two, just so I don't look like I'm going alone like some sort of loser, and I'll tidy the room for the next week. I'll make your freaking bed and everything," she pleads, interlinking her fingers in a pleading gesture and waves her hands in my face. I recoil and swat at her hands.

I can feel my once-steady resolve crumbing. Maybe an hour or two wouldn't be _so_ bad, I could stick to Diet Coke and try and keep Johanna from doing all the shots in the building. And it would be nice not to clean the room for a week … or two.

"Make it two and you've got a deal," I say, and Johanna bursts into a grin so wide I think it could have split her face in two.

"Deal," she says, and shakes my hand. Before I know it she's pulled me to my feet. "Now, we have to get you dressed."

"Can't I just go like this?" I ask, referring to the sweats I'm in.

Johanna blinks at me. "I really hope you're not being serious, otherwise we're in more trouble than I thought," she says, and pulls me in the direction of her closet.

* * *

It's as bad as I thought it would be.

I lost Johanna about half an hour ago, as she swanned off with shouts of people's names I didn't hear. Apparently they're in her class. I've made some awkward small talk with people that I recognise, but all in all I'm keeping myself to myself. _Ten more minutes and it will have been an hour,_ I keep saying to myself. _And then you can leave, Johanna can't stop you._

I'm standing at the door leading from the Capitol Building into the pool area, and people are dive-bombing all over the place, showering me with water at regular intervals. Not that I care about getting my clothes wet. They aren't mine, they're Johanna's, and I was forced into them kicking and screaming – literally. I'm wearing distressed short-shorts, as she called them (they're almost obnoxiously short and I'm extremely uncomfortable about showing off so much of my bare legs) and a plain black tee-shirt that's completely shredded down the back. Johanna's lowest heels adorn my feet, and as I look down I realise it could have been worse, she could have forced me into a dress.

I take a sip from the Diet Coke can in my hand as I feel someone tapping me on the shoulder. I turn around and see its Peeta Mellark, from across the hall. I haven't seen him in a while, which is unusual, considering we live across the hall from one another. He looks good, with his blonde hair as messy as it usually is whenever I see him, and he has come dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt.

"Hey," I say loudly, to be heard over the booming music coming from somewhere. It seems like the whole building has relocated outside.

He laughs at my attempt to be loud. "Hey," he says back, taking a small sip of the beer in his hand. He waves his hand at the air and smiles. "Didn't think this type of gig would be your thing."

I laugh. "Not really, but I got bribed by Johanna to come."

It's his turn to laugh. "Should've guessed," he says, and his eyes flick around me. "Speaking of the devil, where is she?"

"Oh, I lost her about half an hour ago to people who wanted to introduce her to a beer keg," I joke, and Peeta grins at me.

"Again, I should have guessed," he says, taking another sip of beer. "Did you not join her?"

I wrinkle my nose. "Drinking … not really my thing."

Peeta looks at me. "Have you – like, ever had a drink before? Like, at home?"

When we first all moved in, before classes started, Johanna, Gale, Peeta and myself spent a few days together, getting to know people and getting to know the campus. Of course, the question of where we lived and what our lives were like before we came to California was asked, and I told the shortest version of my story that I could. I spared them the details, but the three knew that I didn't have a lot of money, I wasn't very popular, my mother was ill and I had to bring up my little sister by myself. Johanna sometimes makes pretty low blows about it, but that's her humour so I let it roll off my back the majority of the time. Usually she knows when she gets out of line. Peeta and Gale, on the other hand, try to be sensitive about the issue, which sometimes annoys me even more than Johanna's bluntness.

I bite my lip, and eventually shake my head. "Alcohol is expensive where I come from. We weren't allowed to drink at school and I wasn't a regular attendee at parties where it was freely available," I explain, shrugging a shoulder. Alcohol wasn't important to me like it was to some of these people, whose whole lives revolved around the stuff.

Peeta looked at me for a moment, before he smiled. "C'mon," he says, and before I know it, his large, warm hand is pulling me to the side of the building.

"Where are we going?" I ask, keeping my grip loose just in case I have to pull away. I don't even know this guy yet, I don't know what he's up to. Fear shoots through me until I see he's heading the direction of the bar, and I pull my hand; his grip is firm but not so much that it is painful. I pull again, to no avail. "No, I don't want any. No way, not on your life."

He turns to me and grins cheekily. "I'm not asking you to down a shot, Katniss. Just one drink. I'll start you off with something much weaker than a shot," he says, and exchanges a few words with a guy dealing out drinks, and turns to me with a glass bottle that has some kind of pink liquid inside it in his hand. His other hand is still intertwined with mine. "Look, it's _Wild Berry_ flavour. You won't even taste the alcohol. And it's only one, and I'll be here the whole time. You can't come to your first college party ever and not having at least one alcoholic drink. You can go back to Diet Coke after."

For some reason, his persuading skills work better on me than Johanna's. Maybe it's his eyes, that are piercing into mine, maybe it's his warm hand that is still squeezing my own, or maybe it's the lack of swearing and shouting in his voice. Yeah, definitely the lack of swearing.

I place my can of Diet Coke down on the bar, take the bottle from Peeta's outstretched arm and peer at it intently. It's a wine cooler, and he's right, it's a berry flavour. It certainly doesn't smell like alcohol or at least the alcohol I'm familiar with; it doesn't look like it either. Maybe it won't be so bad.

I take a small, dainty sip and it's like soda that isn't fizzy. The berry flavour is dominant, overpowering any other flavours or tastes that might have been in there. I lick my lips, and then I smile. It's not that bad, actually. It's … nice. I take another sip, a bigger one this time, and it only confirms my first thought. I actually like it.

Peeta grins at my smile, and drains his beer in one long pull. He grabs another one, and that's when I feel someone hugging me from behind.

"I missed my bitch!"

Apparently Johanna's an affectionate drunk. Well, I'm assuming 'bitch' is used as an affectionate term towards me, considering she's got her arms wrapped around my middle. Peeta's laughing into his beer and I admit, she's pretty funny drunk.

I take another pull of my wine cooler, and Johanna's eyes widen.

"Are you drinking _alcohol_?" she squeaks, disbelief in her face. She turns to Peeta. "How on Earth did you manage that? I barely managed to get her here!"

"Just with words, rather than threats, Mason," he shoots back, but I see a little bit of pride in the smirk that adorns his face.

"Mellark, you are now and forever my hero," Johanna deadpans, and Peeta looks slightly shocked for a second as she advances on him, wrapped his arms around his waist and squeezing. I laugh at his deer-in-the-headlights expression.

"Now you know how it feels," I mouth to him over Johanna's head, and he laughs. I take another drink and am dismayed when there seems to be none left in the bottle; I've finished it. I grab another one from the bar as Peeta's eyes widen like Johanna's did earlier. Speaking of her, she's finally let Peeta go, but has now resumed hugging me instead, altering between hugging me and taking my hand and pulling me places, and I pull Peeta along with us. We've actually found a spot we've been in longer than thirty seconds when I feel the familiar warmth of Johanna's hand in mine, and her shout rings through the crowd.

"GALE HAWTHORNE!" she screams, and the man in question whips his head around to see the source, and grins when he sees its Johanna. She pulls me in his direction, and I pull Peeta along with us.

"Mason, why are you hollering?" Gale asks, a beer in his hand and a slightly glazed look in his eyes. He's been drinking heavily, much like Johanna; I'm onto my third wine cooler and I'm calling this a successful night.

"Because the music is loud, Brainless," she says, before she frowns. "No, wait, you're not Brainless, she is," she says, confused and pointing in my general direction, but continues anyway. "I'll have to come up with some witty nickname for you, Hawthorne."

"Just try it, Mason," he challenges, smirking. He produces a bottle of clear liquid from God only knows where, and two glasses. They're shot glasses. He pours the liquid into the glasses and holds one out to Johanna, who matches his smirk as she accepts a glass.

"Challenge accepted," she says, looking him dead in the eyes, as she tips back her shot.

* * *

The sun is bright and it burns my eyes, making me bury my head further into the pillow. Ouch. My head is throbbing in sync with my heartbeat and it makes me wince at every beat.

I hear Johanna groan loudly from her bed, and the sound seems deafening to my over sensitive ears.

"What's wrong with me?" I ask, licking my dry lips. My mouth is as dry as a desert, so it offers no relief to my chapped lips. "I feel like someone's run over me with a tank."

Johanna groans again, and I hear the rustle of bedcovers as she turns over. "It's called a hangover, Brainless. Now shut up because I'll spew my load if I keep talking."

I promptly shut up, not wanting to have to clean up Johanna's vomit, before I remember the deal from last night.

"You'd be the one cleaning up anyway," I say, injecting as much glee as I can in this state into my voice. Johanna groans again and this time it has nothing to do with her hangover.

What shocked me the most was that I actually had fun last night. Not to begin with, but once I'd found Peeta, and then Johanna and subsequently Gale, things had definitely perked up. Quite surprisingly, I didn't regret going, which was the one thing I was sure I was going to wake up with. Instead, I wake up with a hangover. Didn't see that one coming.

I must have lain, motionless, for about half an hour before I hear Johanna's sheets rustle again and they're suddenly thrown back. "I need coffee," she announces, struggling to sit upright. I blink. Coffee isn't something readily available back home, but every time I've been into Charleston – which is only a handful of times in my life – I've been aware that the amount of coffee shops is ridiculous.

"Will it help?" I ask her, my voice so hoarse and scratchy it doesn't even sound like my own. Maybe coffee will help. I am sure I will do almost anything to get rid of this horrible feeling.

Johanna laughs at my question, but it's a feeble, weak laugh, a world away from her usual bark of laughter. "Hell yeah," she says quietly. "Girl, you won't know what hit you when you get a large Starbucks coffee down your throat."

I nod, but even that makes my head pound like there is a band playing inside it. I get up and follow Johanna's lead; pulling out my comfiest sweats and not even bothering to have a shower. I pull my hair into a braid and follow her out the door, where she is rapping on Peeta and Gale's door.

It's Peeta who answers, and he looks just as bad as I feel. His hair is sticking up every way possible, and his face is positively grey. "Hey," he rasps out, bleary eyes turning on Johanna and I.

"We're going to Starbucks. Do you want anything?"

Peeta blinks around for a moment, as if it's taking time for the question to sink into his brain. He eventually nods. "Yeah. Just two coffees. Strong. I'll give you the money when you come back, because Gale's still out of it," he says, gesturing to where Gale is still dead to the world. He turns to me and smiles a little. "How are you feeling?"

"Dreadful," is my blunt reply, and he laughs a little.

"You drank way more than I thought you would. Can you remember much?" he asks in reply, and I scrunch up my forehead. For some reason, the last thing I can remember is Gale and Johanna doing shots.

I shake my head, and even Johanna laughs.

"He had to carry you up the stairs, Brainless and Drunken," she says, pointing at Peeta. "You practically passed out on us."

I could feel my face turning beetroot red. "I'm - oh, gosh, I'm really, really sorry - "

"It's okay," Peeta interrupts me. "It's really fine. It was quite funny, actually, you kept asking where Jojo was."

I put my head in my hands, but that movement brings on another wave of nausea and I look up to hear Peeta saying that he'd try and get Gale up for us coming back.

Johanna nods and laughs at him, and he shuts the door, leaving us to make the trek to Starbucks. I know where it is as I have to pass it to get to class, and it seems to take ten times longer than usual in our weary state. I let Johanna order when we get there, and I'm possibly asleep on my feet when an elbow is driven into my ribs, almost making me retch.

"What?" I ask Johanna, the owner of the ribs. She points to a 'Help Wanted' sign that's hanging behind the counter. "Weren't you saying earlier you needed a job?"

I nod at her, because earlier I had been moaning about getting a job; living in California wasn't cheap, and student loans and trust funds over covered so much.

"Excuse me," I ask the tall, slightly burly blonde that was working behind the counter, "how to you apply for the job?"

He looked me up and down, a smirk on his face. Johanna grinned. The guy leant under the counter and produced a form.

"Fill it in, and we'll phone you and let you know," he says, still smirking, as he hands us our four coffees. "Hope these help the hangover," he laughs, and I frown as Johanna pulls me towards the exit.

"Can everyone tell we're hungover?" I ask her, and she takes two of the coffees from my hands, takes a sip of one of them, and smiles.

"Hell yeah, Kat," she says, and I groan. Johanna just smiles at me, takes another sip of coffee, and reminds me that hungover or not, she hates dawdlers.

I shake my head as I follow her back to West Building, thinking that somehow, I don't think this will be the last time we're in this situation. Not if Johanna has anything to do with it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Bread and Circuses: Black Coffee In Bed**

Sorry it's taken a while guys, but here it is! Chapter 3. Enjoy!

* * *

It's a Tuesday when I get the call.

It's blisteringly hot out - in California, when wasn't it? - and so Johanna had persuades me to eat out rather than in our room. We usually meet up during classes, just to chat, otherwise we'd be like ships passing in the night. And ever since the party, we'd had a shadow in the forms of Peeta and Gale. Well, I say shadows, it's more the fact that _we'd bonded together against the world, like in 'Friends'. _In Johanna's words, not mine. I admitted I've never seen an episode the whole way through, and Johanna had called immediately for a group-wide, ten season marathon that the boys had agreed to almost instantly, claiming it was a sin I hadn't seen it. I wasn't really that bothered. TV was a luxury we couldn't afford at home, and we only really had one for two reasons: appearances, and the news.

We're sitting outside a deli, eating sandwiches and salads, trying not to melt even in the shade. Johanna's rolling a chilled bottle of water over her forehead and complaining she's from Seattle, she just can't do this weather. Gale's throwing his unwanted cucumber at her face, claiming it's helping her cool down. Peeta's picking at his leftover lettuce, already gone limp with the unbearable heat.

A ring sounds from apparently nowhere, and my friends' hands all immediately dash towards their phones, each shaking their head at their silence.

"It's your's, brainless," Johanna says, nodding towards where the ringing is coming, loud and clear, from my bag. Ah, the cell phone Johanna made me buy. I'd never had a use for one at home in Seam, but Johanna - and Peeta and Gale, for that matter - wanted me to have one. 'In case of emergency' they said. To date, only they three had my number, so who the hell was calling me?

I pick up, frowning at the unknown number. "Hello?" I hate the way my voice sounds tense, nervous even.

"Hello. Is this Katniss Everdeen?" a smooth, male voice I've heard before comes through the phone. I frown again, my thumbnail somehow finding it's way towards my mouth.

"Yes," I say, shortly.

The man laughs at my shortness. "My name is Cato Baxtor, I'm the assistant manager at Starbucks, UP Branch. You applied for a part-time Barista position?"

I perk up at this as I realise where I've heard that voice before: hungover, buying coffee, and a big, bulky-looking blonde man behind a counter. But this was good news. A job meant money, that I could possibly send back home to Mom and Prim. "Yes, I did," I answer. I then remember I'd scratched down the number on the application form, paranoid I'd gotten it wrong.

I can almost hear Cato smile down the phone. "Well, you've got it, girl. When can you come down for a introduction?"

Now, it's my turn to smile down the phone. "Tomorrow?" I say, wanting to get started right away, and this doesn't escape Cato's notice.

"Eager," he comments, not nastily, then hums. "Tomorrow, eleven am. I'll be at the counter, just come in."

"Okay, thanks," I say, and then I all I hear is dial tone; Cato's hung up. I save the number as 'Work' and it gives me a small thrill to do so, and I can't wait to get in and start earning money I can call mine and mine alone.

I look up from my phone to see three pairs of eyes all boring into mine, apparently all wondering who was on the phone. Johanna's got both hands braced on the table, as if she's about to jump and shake it out of me; Peeta's chewing on a piece of cucumber with an expectant look on his face; and Gale's got one eyebrow raised, all three of them waiting for me to speak.

"I got the job," I say, a grin slowly making it's way onto my face. Johanna lets out a loud whoop that startles the customers sitting behind us. She's too busy throwing herself at me to notice though, and it's Peeta who says a sheepish sorry, before grinning at me. Gale high fives me over Johanna's head, and then he collapses on top of her (and therefore, me) with a yell of 'pile on!'. Peeta follows suit, and gets the woman Johanna had half-scared to death earlier to take a picture of the four of us on his phone.

Somehow, in this sweaty, slightly sticky, jumbled mess of limbs and clothes, I think I've actually found a family.

* * *

I wake up two hours early on the morning of my first day.

I try and rouse Johanna, but I should know by now that I won't have much luck. On Wednesday's she doesn't have class until noon, so she won't be getting up a minute before eleven. I try tugging the blankets off her and shining a torch in her face, but she sleeps on, dead to the world. I swear, there could be an earthquake and the girl still wouldn't wake up - which is suddenly a real threat, living in California, where I know from school earthquakes are common. Hurricanes are our biggest problem in West Virginia.

I give waking her up as a bad job, and sit on the edge of my bed, letting Johanna's soft snores calm me down. I'm nervous. I've had jobs before, obviously, in Seam. But this is the first one I'll be doing completely independently. Back in Seam it was my father's friends that had given me jobs, nothing solid just odd jobs here and there, as they knew my family were short of money. It wasn't awful work, not by any standards, and I knew everyone there so there was no awkwardness or painful small talk like there is bound to be today.

There is nothing for me to do now, but wait. I should probably try and eat by for some reason, my stomach is jumpy, and the mere thought of food sends it spinning. Instead, I reach for one of my books, thinking I should at least get some work done whilst I'm free.

I'm halfway through a chapter on international relations in the Middle East when there are three soft, but sure taps on the door. I set the tomb to the side as gently as I can, a feat well-practised with the weight of the books Abernathy dishes out, and I get up to see who the hell is knocking on the door at this time of the morning.

It's Peeta.

I smile as I open the door as quietly as I can. He comes bearing gifts; a coffee from Starbucks. I laugh quietly at the irony as I take it from his outstretched hand, and beckon him into the room with a nod of my head. He catches the door before it shuts, and lets it click gently.

"How are you?" He half-whispers, settling himself down on my bed with his back against the wall. I take a seat next to him, putting my coffee between my knees. It's funny, how addicted I've become to the stuff in under two weeks.

"I'm okay. Just a bit nervous, I think," I say as quietly as I can. I don't know why I bother, we could be screaming at each other and Johanna still wouldn't wake. "Never really done the job thing before."

"You didn't work at home?" Peeta asks, feigning casualness. He takes a sip of his coffee, but his eyes don't leave my face. Out of the three of them, Peeta is the one that shows the most concern over my upbringing. Johanna usually makes a joke of it (although I think that's her way of dealing with unpleasant things in general) and Gale usually acts as if he has no clue about it whatsoever.

Peeta, on the other hand, seems like he is genuinely troubled by it. I know from small hints and talks that although his family always had money, from their bakery in Pittsburgh, he was extremely lonely as a child. He mentioned his brothers, but Johanna and I (we've talked about this, between us. Mainly because Peeta's cagey about his life, whilst I am not, really. Gale and Johanna don't really have anything to be cagey about, per se) reckon they aren't close, as a family. There is something about his mother, too, but we haven't been able to work out exactly how she factors in. Johanna thinks she may be dead, but I'm not so sure. He doesn't talk like she is.

My eyes flick back up to him, and I smile a little. "Not really for money. For food," I say, and Peeta's eyes are suddenly extremely interested in his coffee cup in his lap, and I can tell he doesn't really have anything to say to that. However broken and fractured his family may be, the one thing they've always had is plenty to eat. He's said so himself.

(I used to be jealous of that. But then I decided I'd much rather have my family, whole and complete and happy, than a mountain of food we'd never be able to consume).

We speak about trivial things, like class, tutors and the weather, but mostly we're just lost in our thought. I like that we've reached a stage in our friendship that we can be comfortable in silence with each other. Now, only the sound of small sips of coffee and Johanna's snoring punctuating the air. They stop, and I look over to her.

"Gall," she mutters in her sleep, and I can almost hear Peeta frowning beside me.

"Gall?" he whispers to me, and I turn my head to look at him.

"She's said it a few times now," I say, being honest. A smile creeps across my face. "I think she might be saying 'Gale'."

Peeta's eyebrows nearly collide with his hairline at that. "You think?"

I nod. "Unless she's talking about her gall bladder," I say, and Peeta laughs as quietly as he can.

"Johanna likes Gale? Really?" he asks, as if he quite can't get his head around it. I shrug one shoulder, taking a final sip of my rapidly cooling drink.

"Maybe," I say, not wanting to speak much more on it. What goes on in Johanna's crazy, messed up head is for her and her alone, and I fear for my life should I even suggest that I'd heard what I did. She'd rip me limb from limb.

I'm assuming Peeta knows well enough now to keep his mouth shut, too.

All he does is nod knowingly, rubbing his hand on my knee for a second or two before he gently plucks my now-empty cup from my hand and tosses it in the trashcan on his way out the door.

* * *

Cato is, for lack of better words, a giant cuddly bear.

Or, at least, that's how I'm describing him to Johanna now (She'd arisen from her sleep of the dead by the time I'd finished my first shift).

She was bouncing on her bed when I stepped through the door, her book tossed to the side carelessly on her bed as if she'd begun studying but had since given it up as a bad job. Knowing Johanna, that's probably exactly what happened.

"So? How was it? Tell me everything!" she demands, and I've not even fully shut the door yet. I sigh, placing my bag on my bed with my body following it, and unlacing my shoes slowly. If there is one thing I've learnt about my roommate, is that she _talks. _About everything. In excruciating details. From who made out with who at her senior prom to her last trip to the bathroom, she's the queen of too much information. No-one can ever say that she's hard to read, or plays her cards close to her chest; she's the most open and honest person I've ever met, and sometimes that necessarily isn't a good thing. Although it does clash with my pure and utter hatred of talking about stuff, I've learnt to deal with it.

Most of the time.

"Katttttttttt!" she says, drawing out the 't' into a whine. "How was it?"

"Meh," I say, shrugging one shoulder. "Fine."

I can practically hear Johanna growling behind me. "Fine? All you can say is fine?" I hear her bedsprings creaking, and before I know it, she's attacked me from behind. One thing I've gotten used to - have had to get used to - is Johanna's lack of understanding of personal space. To her, no such thing exists. I've had to get used to it pretty fast.

I try and shake her off, but all she does is stop hanging onto me by my shoulders, and settles for lounging across my bed instead. She kicks my ankle.

Once again, I give in.

"Honestly, I was fine," I say, but Johanna's eyes just narrow at me. "I went in, filled out a ton of paperwork, then Cato taught me how to make a few basic coffees. And that was basically it, Johanna, honestly."

She quirks her mouth. "Cato? Is that the blonde guy?"

I nod, and Johanna smirks. I'm more scared by this that the attacking of moments earlier. She scoots herself closer to me on the bed, so we're practically sitting thigh-to-thigh. Earlier on in our friendship, I would have automatically recoiled from her, going to sit on my chair or stand. Now, I'm comfortable enough with her that although I wouldn't choose for us to sit so close together, I can sit here for a while with her.

I call this progress.

"What's he like?" Johanna asks, and I frown.

"Cato?" She nods in response, with a 'keep up' expression on her face. It's a frequent one she uses around me. "Um … he's … like … a teddy bear."

"A teddy bear?" Johanna's voice is laced with incredulity. "Seriously. Out of all the fucking adjectives and metaphors and whatever else there is, you use the words 'teddy bear' to describe him?"

I turn to her, one eyebrow raised. "Yes," I say, in an even tone. "I mean, he looks tough and scary and possibly like he might just follow you home after work and kill you in a secluded alleyway, but once you get talking to him … he's nice. Sweet, even."

Suddenly, Johanna's sitting bolt upright, a serious expression on her face. "Do you like him?"

"He's alright, I guess. I don't really know him, Johanna. I just met him today."

"That's not what I meant, brainless," Johanna says, hitting my arm. This is a usual occurrence, so much so I don't even flinch. She's given me bruises a couple of times, but I know with Johanna it's just what she does. She doesn't mean to harm you or hurt you. "Do you … _like _him like him?"

I gape at her. "No!" I shake my head rapidly. "Jesus, Johanna, I only met the guy today!"

"Doesn't matter," Johanna says, as nonchalant as ever. "I didn't even meet him and I know I'd tap that if I had the chance."

I laugh at her, and whack her over the head with my pillow, before announcing I'm going for a shower.

(I won't be telling her that I did sneak a look at Cato's ass a couple of times when he was leaning over the dishwasher).

* * *

I'm a little late for my fifth day of work.

"I am so, so sorry," I apologise to Cato as I bustle in the door. It's not busy, by any means (just a few students who look like they've been up all night, and considering the early hour it's a possibility if not a certainty) but I don't like being late for anything. It sets off a bad impression and that's one thing I also hate doing.

Cato's laughing behind the counter. "Don't sweat it, Kat," he says, holding up his arms and gesturing to the zombie-like customers. "Don't you think I can handle it?"

Now it's my turn to laugh. "I think you can handle it just fine," I say, wrapping my green apron around my waist. "But you know I make the strong coffee better."

"That's fighting talk, that is," he replies, and I smile. Okay, so maybe I lied to Johanna yesterday. Okay, so maybe lied is the wrong word - I didn't go into the whole truth. In reality? Cato's extremely easy to talk to. Almost within ten minutes we were bantering back and forth, like we'd known each other for weeks. I felt at ease with him, almost like he wasn't judging me at all, and that was something that was rare with people I had just met.

(And, okay, maybe he wasn't too bad to look at. Like, at all).

There aren't many members of staff on board. Cato is the assistant manager; to date, I've only seen the manager, an older woman referred to as Sae, a couple of times (although Cato and the othes refer to her as Greasy Sae, but only when she's not around. I think it's because of the greasy hair she sports - Johanna would faint if she saw her), and the other two baristas, Marvel and Rue, come in and out. There is another one, Glimmer, but I haven't yet met her. Apart from Cato, Rue is the one I get on with the best. She's funny and quick-witted, and although her comments about customers are sharp and rude, they're also quite funny. Shifts go by fast with her.

This day will be slow but busy, because Sundays always are, according to Cato. "It's full of hungover students buying coffee before they go slouching back to their dorms to sleep the rest of it off," he says with a laugh as he wipes down a counter. "So whilst we'll take in plenty of money with a steady stream of customers, there won't be many people hanging around, if you get my drift. Perfect time to get you started on some of the harder drinks," he continues with a smirk.

I sigh. This week, work has basically been a crash course in all things coffee-related. For someone who hadn't even tried coffee until two weeks ago, I was now an expert in the field, even more so that the self-proclaimed coffee addict Johanna, who kept asking me to steal supplies from work so I could make the coffee for her in our room. I refuse every time, of course.

"Right," Cato says when there are no customers in the shop, rubbing his hands together. "How about we get you started on the frapp?"

So far, my experience has been solely with hot beverages, to the chance to get to use the blenders and other tools I see Cato and Rue with is intriguing. Cato shows me how to put all the ingredients in the blender and makes a perfect caramel cream frappuccino.

I try and do exactly what he does, but it doesn't work out so well. "Caramel syrup, milk, blender-"

"LID!" Cato hollars, but it's too late; I forget to put the lid on the blender and a mixture of caramel syrup, milk and ice flies everywhere, coating the counter, Cato and myself from head to toe.

Both of us stand in silent shock for a moment, simply blinking. I had never been more glad that the shop is deserted.

I swallow, loudly. "I'm - I'm so - god, I'm really sorry - "

I stop talking at Cato's hand, which is suddenly raised in a 'stop' gesture. I can't tell if it's rage that is burning in his eyes, and I cast my eyes downwards as I bite my lip. Back in Seam, this would be the time I would get a blazer of a row for wasting resources.

It's Cato's slow chuckles that bring my eyes back up to his. When my eyes finally reach his face, they see his smiling grin looking straight at me. Quick as a flash he sticks out his index finger and swipes it down my cheek, before sticking the digit in his mouth. I gape as he slowly smiles.

"At least you got the caramel syrup-milk ratio right," he deadpans, before he bursts into guffaws, laughing louder than I've heard anyone laugh in my life. I stand, still for a few moments while he dissolves into laughter, and soon he's on the floor, sitting in the remains of what was supposed to be my attempt at a frappiccino; I'm laughing too, his laughter infectious, and before long, my cheeks hurt from laughing and I'm leaning against the side of the counter, trying to catch my breath back.

"C'mon," he says eventually, a little breathless. He holds his hand out and I pull him to his feet. "We better get this cleaned up before any customers come in."

I spend the rest of my day wiping down surfaces and laughing whenever I catch Cato's eye, flicking soapy water at each other and 'accidentally' spilling various liquids over each other's counters.

When I arrive back in my room, Johanna pounces immediately, asking why I'm soaking wet and smelling of caramel. She picks up a strand of syrupy hair and recoils away from me, saying she would _absolutely not_ talk to me until I'd had a shower and was looking at least vaguely presentable again.

I just laugh loudly and head for a shower to wash the remains of frappiccino from my hair.


	4. Chapter 4

**Bread and Circuses: Here's To The Night**

* * *

I've never seen my roommate so crazy.

Literally, it's like she's gone insane; suddenly, almost overnight, she went from Johanna, who you'd probably find either in the bar down the road challenging one of the regulars to a shot-taking contest or on our windowsill smoking, to Johanna, who you'd probably find in the library or buried under a pile of notebooks, stray papers and post-it notes.

Ah, the dreaded word all college students hate: midterms.

They'd arrived faster than any of us had expected, and it had taken all of us by surprise, but none more so than Johanna, who'd promptly realised she knew absolutely nothing after failing a pop quiz in one of her classes.

"Look that this!" she'd demanded, waving a sheet of paper covered in crosses in front of my face. "We had a pop quiz today. I fucking failed. Failed, Kat! How did this happen?!" She'd asked, falling dramatically on her bed, the quiz paper fluttering down to the carpet.

I had bent to pick it up. "You only got ten right out of forty?" I had said, looking over to see Johanna wince.

She had nodded.

"Maybe you could, I don't know, study?" I had asked. Johanna had scoffed.

"I don't study, Kat," she had said, suddenly standing up straight and snatching the piece of paper out of my hands, and began tearing it to shreds. "This never happened, okay?"

I'd walked in on her the next day with her head buried in a book. A week later, she was surrounded by notebooks and stray highlighters. I've even found a mind map in my bed, which she had promptly yelled 'mine!' and had snatched it out of my hand when I had brandished it in the air.

Today, however, she'd taken it to a new level. I'd woken up mere minutes ago to find her already wide-awake and studying, and when I'd looked closer, I saw her eyes were rimmed red.

"Have you slept at all?" I ask, eyeing the cups of Starbucks coffee littering her desk. Good to see she'd been putting my employee discount to good use.

"I don't know," she says, speaking fast. "Probably not, but all I know is that I've got a pop quiz tomorrow and I'll be damned if I fail, Kat. DAMNED IF I FAIL!"

I stand, shocked as she yells at me, and manage to force my face into a smile. "That's okay. No-one likes to fail, go back to studying now," I say, still smiling as I make my way towards our door. She doesn't notice, as her nose has now re-entered her book. I slip my way out the door, closing it softly, and bang on the one opposite.

It's Peeta that answers, and judging from the mussed-up hair and faint biro pen marks on his cheek, he has had been studying too. At least he looks like he's slept. "Hey Kittykat," he says, grinning. The annoying nickname 'Kat' that Johanna had sprung on me day one has caught on, much to my eternal dismay; but Peeta has decided to put his own, unique spin on it in recent weeks. Apparently it makes Johanna 'want to vomit up her lunch' whenever she hears it, and it makes Peeta (and myself, even if I hate it) laugh. "What's up?"

I force my way into their room with little resistance. It's identical to ours across the hall, only a tad messier and with a stink of sweat, aftershave, and general teenage boy hanging in the air. I actually find that I don't mind it as much as I thought I would.

Gale is sitting on his bed, book in his lap and notebook by his side. "Hi, Everdeen," he says, without looking up. Gale likes to call people by their last names, but no more so than Johanna, who I've only heard him call Mason. I don't think he's ever called her Johanna. Sometimes, if I'm lucky, I'll get a 'Kat' thrown my way.

"What brings you to our humble abode?" Peeta asks, leaning on one of the desks beside me. I sigh.

"I need your help."

Peeta raises an eyebrow. He knows - as does Gale, and Johanna too - that I only really ask for help in dire situations, and even then it's usually because I've been forced to by someone or something. Such character quirks were figured out in the first month of us being a group of friends.

"Are you sure you're feeling alright, Kat?" Peeta jokes, raising a hand and placing the back of it on my forehead, as if to check if I have temperature. I laugh and swat his hand away.

"I'm fine, but Johanna isn't," I say. I can't help but notice Gale, who has been listening to our conversation but has never taken his eyes of the book on his lap, is suddenly staring at me raptly.

"What's wrong with her?" he asks, and I smirk a little. There is so much more to their relationship that meets the eye, I'm sure of it. Not that I'd ever tell them I thought that. I like my head attached to my body, thank you very much.

I sigh dramatically as I haul myself onto Peeta's desk, letting my legs swing free. "Midterms," I say.

"They've caught her bad, huh?" Peeta asks, a sympathetic look on his face. I laugh.

"I think bad is the understatement of the year," I chuckle. "She failed a pop quiz in one of her classes last week and now she's taken the studying thing to extremes. I mean, she's outstudying me, and that's something I never thought I'd say. I don't think she's slept in two days."

I watch as Peeta and Gale's faces change. At first, they were amused, before realising I was serious and their faces morphed into concerned expressions, and once again it struck me just how close we'd become in a few short months.

"What do you propose we do?" Gale asks, throwing his books to the side and standing up, heading towards the door. Peeta frowns and holds out a hand.

"I think we need to come up with a plan first. Judging from what Kat says, she's not gonna listen to us if we just go barging in."

Sometimes, I don't know how Peeta and Gale get along. Gale is a man of action, who does things first and asks questions later; his heart rules over his head. Peeta is his exact opposite; he thinks everything through, has a game plan, and never ever rushes into anything, ever.

Then again, maybe that's why they are such good best friends; they're the exact opposite of one another, the missing piece of the team.

Maybe that's why Johanna and I clicked as well as we did, too.

Meanwhile, Gale is nodding at Peeta. "Yeah, game plan," he says, distractedly. Peeta and I don't have to look at each other to know we're thinking the same thing; Gale wants nothing more than to just burst on into my room and see Johanna for himself, consequences be damned. But Peeta's right; Johanna is running on adrenaline and caffeine, and I don't know how she'll react if we barge on in and say, 'Oh, Johanna, don't study, even if you fail, you're making yourself ill and we'd rather you failed, thanks very much.'

That wouldn't do at all.

"I think I might have an idea," Peeta announces, and this is not surprising; out of the four of us, he is usually the brains behind the madness. Gale and I look at each other, and nod at Peeta to go on.

"What's the plan?" Gale asks, perching himself on his desk, as Peeta stands in between him and I.

"Gather 'round, children, gather 'round," Peeta says, an amused smirk on his face, but we do what he says nevertheless.

* * *

Half an hour later, I'm outside my dorm room door. Gale is kneeling at my feet, back against the wall beside the door, Peeta on his other side. We nod to each other - the plan is a go.

"Johanna!" I yell as I bash open the door, and she is so startled that she looks up from her book. I rarely yell, or bash open doors, so this completely stuns her into silence.

"Yeah?" She asks, still looking a little shocked. I almost smile - that's all part of the plan.

"You have to come see this," I say, breathless, and I cross over to her bed and throw her book of her lap. She squeals in indignation but I ignore it. "Peeta and Gale are fighting!"

As I thought, as soon as I mentioned the boys' names, her head snaps up from her book, total disbelief written all over her face. "Where?" she asks, before she shakes her head. "Are you sure it's Gale and Peeta? That sure doesn't sound like them to fight!" she says as she makes her way to the door.

I nod vigorously after her, my part of the plan almost over. "It's just around the corner. I'm a hundred percent positive it's them."  
Johanna opens our door, and I'm right behind her; as soon as it's closed I lock in, and Johanna yells a irritated, "Hey! You two aren't fighting!" when she sees the two boys crouched beside the door.

Gale frowns, and stands, and in one fluid motion, Johanna is tossed over his shoulder in a move similar to how one would treat a bag of potatoes. Of course, she doesn't take this very well.

"Hawthorne, if you don't let me down this very instant, I will rip your fucking balls off. Rip. Your. Fucking. Balls. OFF!"

Gale just laughs. "No can do, Mason," he chuckles, and sets off down the corridor with her on his shoulder; she hollers in disapproval.

"I need to study! I have a pop quiz tomorrow! And I can't fail! So put me down, Hawthorne!"

"Never thought I'd see the day you were studying, Mason," Gale quips, when Johanna has finally fallen silent as she realises that Gale isn't putting her down anytime soon. She settles instead for banging her fists hard against Gale's back. To his credit, he doesn't flinch, even thought she's banging with all her might.

Peeta and I are following behind when he catches my eye, and gestures to Gale with his head. "Better him than me," he says, and I laugh.

Gale carries Johanna all the way towards her favourite bar, which has become a frequent hangout of ours. I'm not a huge bar person, but it could be worse. It's small and it's not a club, of which I have never nor never will set foot in ever.

Johanna protests the whole way there, from punching to screaming to hair pulling to trying to wiggle out of Gale's strong hold, but his arms are like vices around her hips, unrelenting. He finally puts her down when we're in our usual booth, and Gale barricades her in, so she cannot escape. She huffs.

"What part of, 'I have a pop quiz tomorrow that I can't fail' can't you fuckers understand?" she whines as I slide into the booth opposite her.

"When you started not sleeping and relying on my employee discount to survive, apparently," I say, thanking Peeta for the Diet Coke as he slides into the booth next to me. He's bought drinks for us all, and he's bought Johanna a decaf Coke. We laugh - well, Gale and I do. Johanna still isn't seeing the funny side.

"Kat was worried, Mason," Gale says to her. "We all were, once she explained the situation. And to be frank, you look like shit. People will think we're sitting with a zombie."

Johanna opens her mouth to protest, but instead reaches up a hand to find her matted hair. "Maybe it is time for a shower," she says, laughing, and Gale scoots away from her slightly. "You don't have to do that, you freak."

"You're the freak," he says, playfully, but nevertheless scoots back to his original position. "And please, could the freaky, studious, boring Mason go away so we can get lazy, crazy Mason back again? She was so much more fun."

Johanna takes a small sip of her Coke. "Depends whether or not I fail this pop quiz tomorrow."

We all groan simultaneously. "What?" Johanna says, shrugging.

"You're gonna ace it," I say with sincerity. "You've been studying so much that I'll ace it, purely on the amount of post-it notes you've got covering the damn walls."

Johanna is silent for a moment. "I've been going mental, haven't I?" she says, placing her head in her hands. Gale rubs her shoulder in sympathy whilst we all make affirming noises.

"Just a little bit," I say when Johanna looks up again.

"I'm sorry," she says, and I can tell she means it. "I just - I just hate failing, y'know? My family thought failing was unacceptable, so when I did fail, something just … snapped. It just ignited the crazy in me and I swore to myself I'd never fail anything again. I guess I just pushed it too far."

"Well, as your friends," Peeta says, smiling, "that's what we're here for. Intervention."

"So you brought me to the bar. You guys know me so well," Johanna grinned. "Is it too early for alcohol?"

Even Gale agreed with us when Peeta and I said yes, it was far too early for alcohol, even if we were celebrating Johanna returning to the world of civilisation.

* * *

Work was quiet, and so I found myself studying.

Not Johanna's version of studying, but more I had a book on International Relations in the Middle East and it's Effect on the Western World propped up against my till, so I could read between serving people. Since the building was on campus, it was only students anyway, who came to get another caffeine hit in between busting the books.

"You'll be the next zombie in the queue," Cato remarks over my shoulder, peering at my text.

I laugh and swat him away. "No chance," I snort, shaking my head. "Not after what I had to deal with."

"Johanna?" Cato guesses, and I nod. "Yeah. She was in here a few times with your employee discount card. I know it's only valid when she's with you, but she had this crazed look in her eye and I didn't want to get on the wrong side of her," he continues, making stare-y eyes at me to emphasis his point.

I giggle. "Admit it. You were scared of her."

Cato made a face which made me laugh harder. He crumbled. "She's fucking scary, okay?! Especially when she's caffeine- and sleep-deprived!"

I'm laughing harder now, leaning on the table. "You're such a wuss."

"Am not!" he replies, banging his shoulder against mine as he leans on the counter next to me. "Dear god, I am bored."

"Maybe you should try studying," I smile, nodding towards my book. Cato is a junior, doing Physical Education - the same course as Gale, only Cato is two years ahead. But I know that he has midterms just like us freshmen, but he doesn't seem to be the slightest bit interested.

"All I wanna do is teach kids baseball," he says, shrugging. "Why do I need to study? I'm not teaching them fucking anatomy."

I shake my head at his cavalier attitude towards academics. Maybe it was different for me, because I had something to work for - my family back home. I was shocked these days, because I thought of them less and less and time went on. The more at home I felt in California and with my friends, the less I yearned for my old home of Seam.

(I was just a tiny bit afraid that come graduation, I wouldn't go home).

"Teaching anatomy or no, studying is important," I argue. "How else can you expect to be successful if you don't put any work in?"

Cato sighs, and just looks at me, before touching my chin with his fist lightly, so lightly I could barely feel it. "Look at you, Katniss, the little nerd."

I sock him in the shoulder and turn back to my book. I blame Johanna for making me violent. I never used to hit anyone, playfully or not, but she's definitely brought out my violent tendencies with her words and playfully punches.

"You need a break," he says, and I turn around.

"I took mine half an hour ago," I reply, bemused. He was there when I left! He just shakes his head in amusement and I'm confused.

"I don't mean from work," he says, and that only makes me more confused. "I mean, from, like, studying and shit. You hit up Petrucci's?"

"Sometimes," I say, but it's a lie. Petrucci's is fast becoming our local bar. Johanna likes to see how many free shots her boobs can buy us. Not that I ever drink them.

"Why?" I ask.

"Meet me there at seven tomorrow. We can just have a few drinks, forget about the books for a while."

I laugh. "You can't forget about something you never remember."

He laughs too, but has a confused look on his face. "I don't know if that makes sense or not," he chuckles. "But will you be there, tomorrow?"

I shrug. "I don't have plans."

He beams, and it is so contagious I find myself smiling back.

* * *

"CATO ASKED YOU OUT?"

I scowl at Johanna, who for once isn't studying. She certainly picks her moments, huh?

"No, he did not ask me out," I reply curtly. I'm sitting on my bed, back against the headboard, my legs stretched on in front of me. My book is lying on my legs, forgotten since Johanna had made her ludicrous claim. "He said I needed to take a night off, so we're going to have a drink."

Johanna laughs, long and loud. "That's called a date, brainless."

"No, it isn't. It's two friends - no, colleagues - getting drinks after work."

"That. Is. Called. A. Fucking. DATE!" Johanna lay back on her bed, shaking with laughter. "I knew he wanted to get in your pants."

I throw a pillow in her face just as the door opened, and in walks Peeta and Gale.

"Thank god we're not having a naked pillow fight in here," Johanna quips from her bed, and I roll my eyes at her. Gale smirks as he bats her legs and settles himself on her bed.

"That's a pity," Gale says, sharing the smirk with Peeta, who is sitting on my bed at my feet. This seems to be their usual positions in our room; Gale sitting on Johanna's bed, Peeta on mine. "Why is Kat throwing a pillow in your face?"

Johanna springs bolt upright, almost like a meerkat, a grin so large it is almost creepy on her face. "You'll never guess what."

"What?" Peeta asks. "And wipe that grin of your face, you look like the Joker."

Johanna sticks her tongue out at him. "Fuck off. Anyway, the news is, you know the sexy dude Kat works with? Cato? He asked her out this morning."

"Wheyhey!" Gale whistles, while Peeta cat-calls loudly. "Lucky Kat."

"He didn't ask me out!" I say, almost screech. "He said that I needed to wind down and take a break from studying, and we arranged to meet for a drink as friends at Petrucci's."

"Having a drink together?" Gale snorts. "That's a date, Kat. He totally wants you."

I blush deeply. "He doesn't. It isn't a date."

Both the boys look at me as if I've gone insane.

"I didn't agree to it as a date," I say, sighing.

"Go," Johanna says, more as an order than a request. "He's hot. You need to get laid, it will unwind you like nothing on Earth."

I blush harder, if that's possible.

"And," Peeta injects, "if you want, the three of us could go to Petrucci's and hide in a corner to make sure he doesn't do anything."

That makes me feel slightly better. I smile gratefully at him, and he smiles back.

Johanna's voice makes me turn away from Peeta's ice blue eyes. "Kat, have you ever actually been on a proper date before?"

I shrug. "Nope. But it'll just be like us going to Petrucci's, only there's only two of us, right?"

Gale groans, his head falling into his hands. Peeta just laughs, and Johanna sighs.

"When is this date of yours?" She asks.

"Tomorrow. Seven pm."

Johanna sighs again. "We've got a lot of work to do before then. You might want to put those books away. We've got to start now if you want to look gorgeous for Cato."

I don't think I've ever been so scared in all my life.


End file.
